


THE NEGATIVE ONE

by WarioGirl



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: All Hope is Gone, Circus, Consensual Sex, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Gehenna, Gen, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Iowa, Masks, Memories, Multi, Other, Psychological Horror, Purgatory, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovered Memories, Slipknot - Freeform, Survival Horror, The Gray Chapters, The Subliminal Verses, graveyard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22975831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarioGirl/pseuds/WarioGirl
Summary: Influenced by an ancient, discontinued SlipKnoT fanfiction 'Nightmare in Iowa'.Sallie Knight wakes up in Purgatory with no recollection where she is or how she got here. And it seems that she is not alone. She is reunited with not only others trapped in this nightmarish underworld, but she is also greeted by the Leader, a familiar man she recognized and felt a strange adoration towards. But he is cruel, and just as complex as this situation.She experiences terror and punishment with no understanding, and when she is reunited with other Lost Souls, they build a plan to escape this Hell-Hole.However, everyone finds Sallie terrifying when she arrives in Purgatory with an infamous mask that injects fear in everyone, including the Leader and The Nine...
Relationships: Corey Taylor/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	THE NEGATIVE ONE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [professor_pyg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/professor_pyg/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Nightmare in Iowa](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/563578) by Wario-Girl & SlipknotGhidorah. 

> PLEASE REGARD THIS CAREFULLY. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH!
> 
> This is A COMPLETE WORK OF FICTION written between two lovable, twisted fucks. The characters in here are based on the members of Slipknot, but DOES NOT, IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM, REFLECT THEM AS A PERSON. These characters are fictitious, and therefore their actions DO NOT speak for the real members themselves. 
> 
> This is a DARK story between two friends that needed an escape, and is inspired by an older fanfiction of mine. The characters, events and situations are complete fiction (Aside from the tragic loss of Paul Gray). These actions are NOT REPLICATED by the members and NEVER WILL BE. They are absolute fucking angels and will NEVER, EVER EVER commit any of these acts. 
> 
> PLEASE bear in mind that this is a work of ABSOLUTE fiction, and does not reflect these members as a person.
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy this twisted tale.
> 
> PS. WORK IS ABSOLUTE FICTION! I REPEAT, THIS DOES NOT REFLECT THE MEMBERS OF SLIPKNOT IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM! (Regard this as fictional characters!)

** THE NEGATIVE ONE **

#  ** PRELUDE 3.0 **

It was the collapsing of a ceiling that stirred her awake.

Her eyes snapped opened, and it took her a moment to register what was happening.

She was falling...falling through the ceiling of a room...but she didn't know why...didn't understand _how_. But the instant her boots made contact on the floor, a distinct _thud!_ boomed through the empty room, landing almost fluidly, as if she had done this before.

The figure seized movement for a time, registering what had just happened. She froze, poised in a position of readiness and horror. She didn't dare move, for she was calculating what was happening.

The stench of oil, damp and mud hung in the air, in which she could vaguely smell behind the stench of fresh latex. That reminded her…

The woman was wearing a mask. It clung onto her face like an obsessive lover, leeching off her flesh, everything stuck and burnt. Her small hands reached for the mask, fingering at the detail, feeling the thick ropes of what seemed to be dreadlocks, a mouth gaping, her eyes peering through small eyeholes.

Promptly, she found the laces behind her head and began to manically loosen them, as if in fear that the mask would eat the flesh off her skull. Finally, she removed the mask and the cold air smacked her flesh hard, suddenly stinging.

That was a grave mistake...

Rain could be heard thundering outside heavily, above her...but when she looked up, the ceiling no longer had a hole. It had recovered...

_What in the actual fuck...?_

The room she had fallen in was pristine, clean, no rumble was seen from her fall, no evidence of a fall or a caved-in ceiling. Beneath her boots, the floor had a checker-board pattern to it, black and white, black and white… but as the pattern spread from where the woman was, it spiralled and distorted. The walls were an off-red shade and it reminded her of rust. The longer she stared at the wall, it looked as though it was leaking, rivets of red streaming down, cascading like a silent waterfall.

_Where the fuck am I? How did I get here?_

The woman touched her face, feeling the heat from her cheeks becoming cold now, as if the air itself was so densely icy that it acted like an anaesthesia.

_Sallie…my name is Sallie Knight…_

She wasn’t sure why she had to think of that. For a moment, she thought she had forgotten everything…

The chandelier on the ceiling flickered, the lights going dim now. Chanting could be heard as footsteps were heading towards her. Sallie turned around to the source of the noise and noticed a black door. It was chained, criss-crossing over it. No way in. No way out. And that was where the chanting was coming from.

Someone was coming for her. Something in the dark. A surge of terror struck through her.

“Bollocks..." That was the first thing she said in this strange place.

Immediately, she looked around to try and find a place to hide...but to her horror, nowhere was a decent hiding place. So, she tried anyway, and tucked herself behind the door, expecting it to open and, hopefully, hide her.

Sallie listened carefully, gripping the dreadlocked-mask against her chest, calming her breath to a sudden stand-still. The chanting and footsteps got louder, and soon the door creaked open. Sallie stared, watching how the chains seemed to have had no effort in barricading the door away from this unknown threat.

Now, the unknown visitors were here.

An unholy presence washed over the room as the people walked into the room.

Strangely there was only one person, but it sounded like there were multiple people with them. The visitor stepped inside of the room, his glistening black boot thumping on the floor.

And the entire world became a deafening silence.

From her pitiful hiding spot, Sallie observed the intruder. The being was staggeringly tall, his shoulders broad, intimidation radiated off him. Long black hair draped over his shoulders and face. He wore what looked like a cloak of some sort.

But he turned gradually, looking to the door for a long time. Then, within a blink of an eye, he slammed it shut, revealing the woman tucked behind it. Sallie instinctively halted back, hurrying into the far corner of the room.

The mask the being wore.... was _frightening_. It was a steel grey; his eyes were a piercing glowing blue. The mask was slender and had vertical slits were the mouth should've been... but the more the being stared at the woman, the more the woman realized.... that wasn't a mask. There was no seam, no end to the mask.

After what seemed to be forever, Sallie almost whimpered as she tried to speak, her throat clenching in fear.

"W-Who are you?!" She tried to sound strong, but her voice wavered, adrenaline shaking at her nerves.

_The Behemoth_ didn't speak, he only stepped closer to her, slowly, step by step. It was like a beating drum, beating hard around them. War drums. His hand outstretched from under his cloak, a hand that was black and clawed. He reached her and once he was close enough, he grabbed her skull, looking down at her. His eyes so piercing and paralyzing.

She should have run. She knew she should have run! But when the hand clutched onto her head she cried out in horror, dropping the mask and she reached his forearm with both hands in sudden panic. "Please! What do you want from me?!" She screamed, her eyes equally as blue as his. Though while she was stormy, his eyes were icy blues. "I…I don't know how I got here!"

He growled softly, his claws biting into her scalp gently. Almost as if telling her she could trust him, but truth be told... she had no clue where she was.

"Seven." A voice from behind the Behemoth spoke, his voice calm, collective. So _human_.

The Behemoth hesitated, but he let go of the small woman, stepping to the side, revealing the one who had spoken. "Sallie Knight." The man said. 

Sallie had pushed herself against the wall, as if trying to phase through it to get away from these strangers. Both men were cornering her, and what the stranger said was correct. Her full name...

Sallie surveyed the other member. He wore a long trench-coat, the collar covering the lower half of the man’s face, like an exaggerated turtleneck. His hands were behind his back, composed and held an air of importance. And his face, it was _odd_. He too wore a mask, which was grey yet transparent, showing murky white and black under the translucent veil, his eyes too were piercing, a beautiful shocking blue.

"You have entered Purgatory.” The man began, his accent American, and it held a familiar warmth that Sallie did not recognise. “Death will overtake you if you skip out on the trial and traumas you have endured." He took a step forward, and Sallie watched as his eyes dropped down to the mask on the floor. _Her_ mask.

The Behemoth faced to what was probably _The Leader_ and noticed what his Leader was looking at.

The Behemoth deliberately knelt and snatched the mask, handing it to the other person. Taking the mask, the Leader looked at it for a time, admiring the features, the crooked smile, the distraught eyes, the thick yet sparse dreadlocks. It was as if he had seen it before.

The moment lasted for too long, leaving Sallie to feel on edge. Finally, he looked back at Sallie, his slightly shaggy hair draping over his eyes. "Where did you get this?”

She looked at the mask and swallowed hard.

"I...I was wearing it..."

The Leader looked to the Behemoth, the two of them staring at each other, and then the Leader turned back to Sallie. Tucking the mask under his trench-coat he observed Sallie closely, stepping slower to the small woman.

The presence of this man was more overbearing than the Behemoth....now that he was closer to Sallie, making her recoil against it. He was taller than her, and she swallowed a hard lump, his questioning confusing. "Do you accept these trials?"

“I...guess so?" She asked, trying to not touch the man.

"You have to be sure. No doubt." The Leader said, his voice stern, sharp. The Behemoth at this point stood behind the other male, towering over them both. The Leader watched her longer, the pauses between their conversations dragging longer and longer, his eyes flickered with a burning desire, something inside of him was burning and Sallie saw it. "Die or survive, your choice."

"Death doesn't sound fun." Sallie frowned, slowly gathering her strength again. "I wish to survive. I accept your what-you-ma-call-it."

The Behemoth finally spoke, his voice deep, dark, almost demonic.

He spoke one word, and one word only.

"_Run_." The two men parted slightly, letting her have enough room to slip passed them, and they both stared at her, waiting for her to bolt.

_Run? _

Sallie blinked, looking at both men with a quizzical glance, but instincts told her to just obey, the tone the Behemoth spoke was of terrible threat. The Behemoth and the Leader’s gazes were harsh, uneasy. She couldn’t bear making eye-contact with them for so long.

Abruptly, she darted past the two men, swinging herself out of the door and she was out of the room.

Immediately she found herself running down stone steps in the darkness of an ancient stairway, her boots tapping at the stone frantically as she ran, ran as fast as she could, missing a couple of steps each time-

She lost her footing and fell, rolling down the stairs roughly, swearing at the top of her voice as she tumbled until she came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs...

The little woman laid there, still, donned in familiar black overalls and her boots, her hair untied, loose and tattered. Rain lashed against her aggressively, falling over her, plastering her hair and clothes against her body.

Staring up at the darkened skies above, she felt the air becoming cold. The sensation of the window touching her in howling threatening gales. The smell of wood and water and mud.

She was outside suddenly.


End file.
